


In Sacred Flames

by ChibiStarr



Series: Silence 1 [3]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Human Sacrifice, Sethius can never shut up and it annoys everyone, like people being burned alive but it's nothing graphic, pre Blight times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-07-19 15:18:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7366972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChibiStarr/pseuds/ChibiStarr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sethius needs more help in reaching the Golden City, so he decides to pay a visit to the High Priest of Toth. </p><p>The High Priest, already known for his short temper, is not amused.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Sacred Flames

**Author's Note:**

> "But the designs of Beauty's High Priest demanded more.  
> No small sacrifice would open the gate.  
> And so the High Priest of Silence went forth again.  
> To the [...] Forgewright of Fire," 
> 
> \- Canticle of Silence, 1:14

Tevinter was always known for having quite the love for fire. 

And, honestly, why not? Fire was a shield against the cold and a sword that could strike a primal fear into the heart of any enemy. Whatever fire took into its teeth would be eradicated completely, feasted upon until all that would be left would be the memory. But it was the greatest cleanser of all, burning away all impurities and imperfections and leaving the very untainted essence behind before that was scattered to the winds. In the Imperium the highest form of capital punishment was to be burned alive, stripped down everything good and bad through the flames and then blown away into nothingness, where an afterlife of wandering cold and blind awaited the guilty. Yet, on the other side of the coin, one of the greatest honors was to be burned before Toth, where the waiting God would swoop in to gather the soul and take it to the afterlife to be with the rest of the Gods. 

It would come as no surprise to anyone, then, that the God of Fire preferred his sacrifices to be burned alive rather than drained of their blood. 

Malgorthius was always said to be so hard that he must have been forged in fire instead of being born from a woman. The High Priest of Toth was never wavering in his devotion to pleasing his God. Pleas fell on deaf ears. Look of terror and begging were met with indifferent eyes. Some said he had no soul. Others said his soul _was_ fire, an ever-burning flame that constantly erased any pity or hesitation that might plague him with doubt, leaving a clean, pure desire to appease Toth and nothing more. 

His eyes were dark, watching the handlers dragging the slaves to the pyre burning next to him. Many resisted but some had already accepted their fate and trudged along, some dead in everything but body and some weeping in quiet hysterics. But they were the best of them all, even if their poor brains didn’t know it yet. Toth always loved the quiet and willing ones who would not fight destiny; those were the ones He cherished as His prized servants. Screams from the fire filled the air, almost completely drowning out the hymns he and his disciples were singing to the might statue of Toth that towered over all, His eyes flickering in the firelight as if they were alive. 

Magic corralled the slaves and stopped them from escaping as they were thrown in until they stopped struggling against the flames. The dark smoke from their carcasses rose higher and wreathed Toth head in shadow with only his glowing eyes visible through it. That was only one of the pyres too. On Malgorthius’s other side lay another, burning hit and bright on its fuel of fruits, meat, wine, and papers with written prayers, all gifts for Toth and His pleasure. The heat from the fires was incredible, and standing between them Malgorthius would have surely been cooked just like all of the other offerings if his high priest robes hadn’t been enchanted just so that would not happen. 

He took a step forward, his eyes never leaving Toth’s. His robes rustled around him, blown by waves of incessant heat, and he reached behind him to take hold of his staff. Its swirls and waves of metal were reminiscent of flames curling around the shaft, colored in red and orange that reflected the light of the fires and made it look alive. He raised it above his head, feeling the power thrumming beneath his fingers like a beating heart, then slammed it against the ground.

The twins fires erupted into raging pillars of flame, bathing the inside of the temple in an intense light that threw sharp, jerking shadows behind the figures gathered around. Heat blasted out like rain from a storm and drove the acolytes to their knees to bow before the power of Toth. All but Malgorthius, who kept his eyes locked his God’s and ignored the heat around him. He took a deep breath of hot, heavy air and spoke in a ringing voice that boomed across the room. 

_“In sacred flames lies the tranquility of purification.”_

The Verses of Fire rolled as easily off his tongue as his own name. His heart never failed to soar as he began to recite them, carrying him into a lightness that made him sway on his feet, but the flashing, enchanting eyes of Toth kept him from falling. He spoke again and this time he heard the other priests and acolytes chanting with him in raised voices that echoed around him in a frenzied daze. 

_“God of Fire, pure embodied rage,_  
_He is the weapon that strikes all who shirk the Gods._  
_No lies may fool Him_  
_Purifier, Cleanser of the Scourge,_  
_Of those who anger His will._  
_God of Fire, Toth, He who judged and divides,_  
_He will devour, He will save,_  
_All will come to Toth in death._  
_Harbinger of Fate, born of ancient rage,_  
_Take the offerings of Your faithful_  
_In Your sacred flames,_  
_Bear them on Your wings, O’ merciful Toth,_  
_And light our way with Your divine fire.”_

They had barely finished, the last syllable still hovering in the air, when Toth’s eyes lit up. But the fire was clearly coming from inside the statue this time. There was a red glow seeping through the dragon’s chest and the barest hint of light colored His open mouth for a breath of a second, the only warning before a torrent of flames rushed out and headed straight for Malgorthius. 

The high priest did not flinch. He stared, his face a hard mask and just as the fire was inches from him it split into two separate streams and circled him, causing him to vanish within a burning maelstrom. All around him were walls of flame but Malgorthius did not even feel even the slightest change in heat; Toth would never burn any of His faithful and beloved servants. On they raged and Malgorthius let them, tipping his head back and waiting for Toth’s approval. 

“ _He of the Light, whose Fires purge the unworthy, whose vision is never clouded by lies nor deceit. He of the perfect Sight, I pray look upon me now and see my devotion._ ” He did not need to speak loudly, not when Toth was so near to him now. For only a few moments did this continue before the river of fire parted directly in front of him. But it was not the interior of his temple that he saw, but gold. A pair of massive gates of gleaming gold towered in front of him. 

Malgorthius frowned at them, but this is what Toth wanted him to see so he stepped out of the fire and into the vision. He knew right away that he was in the Fade from the green mist around him, but this place, this golden place that shone like starfire, he had not—no, he _had_ seen before. Understanding came upon him in an instant. He remembered all the times he walked in the Fade with the city of gold shining on the horizon like a mock sun, just as unreachable as it also. And here he was _right at the gates of the city_. The metal was etched in designs that his eyes could not focus on because they kept morphing and swirling like flames all over its surface. Beautiful. Fascinating and beautiful. 

He was so close that he could see his own reflection staring back at him from the ripples, the usual harsh lines of his face softened by awe, the curved spires and sharpened points of his robes waving in a mesmerizing pattern. Hardly daring to breath, he reached out to touch the gate. For a moment he thought he had, then seconds later realized that his hand was pressing against an invisible something only inches or so away from it, as if the air had been made solid. Here he was at the city but even then it was still as unreachable as ever. “What must I do, Toth?” he asked the still air of the Fade. “Tell me, and Your will shall be done.”

The patterns on the gate swirled frantically, their lines and curls darting around to form the shape of a dragon’s head. Fire blazed from its eyes and teeth, crowning its horns in streams. _**Open these gates,**_ Toth’s voice filled the entirety of his mind, burning away every other scare thought and sensation that corrupted it. _**And when you journey to my throne through fire and flames I shall raise you and forge your soul on my sacred anvil into the First of the new gods, and you shall serve at my side, most faithful of my disciples.** _

It was like looking at the sun, but the sun was in his mind and though there was nothing else it’s warmth and light and raw power cradling him was all he needed. This is what it felt like to be with a God and he never wanted it to end. He fell to his knees from the force of it, surely there must have been divine light pouring from his head as Toth’s presence stormed inside his mind and sent wave after wave of energy crashing throughout his weak human body. All he could think of was _Yes! Yes of course Toth! I will do it! Yes! Yes!_ with all his heart and soul while the voice of Toth felt like an eternity. An eternity of bliss, of raw burning power that made his skin burst into golden flames while the sun shimmered in his bones. It was beautiful, Toth was granting him the gift of feeling like a god and it was so divine and He was such a kind god, so merciful and generous—

Just as suddenly as it came it ended.

He fell forward, landing on his forearms and trembling all over as his scattered, fragmented thoughts came back to him. Hard and warm, two sensations that he had to remember feeling before he understood exactly what they were. For a long minute he thought he had been blinded but when his eyes finally began to adjust he realized he was back in the temple and the flames had gone out. Toth had accepted their gifts. Murmuring was all around him, quick and hushed, and it was a few moments before he could force himself to sit up. The noise ceased. His body felt drained and empty, consumed by Toth’s flame until all that remained was ashes. It would pass, it always did. That didn’t mean it wasn’t a challenge for him to rise to his feet, even when he was using his staff as a support. 

Everyone was waiting for him, breath hushed and a suppressed eagerness hanging in the air. Malgorthius took a deep breath, centering himself and trying to bring his thoughts back into coherency. He gripped his staff so hard that the bones of his fist popped out starkly against his skin. “Toth has thanked us for our offering,” he said loudly, forcefully. “And He has blessed us with His light and His benevolent gaze. Praise Toth, our Harbinger of Fate!” The voices behind him rose into a praising shout with him and he slammed his staff against the ground, dismissing them.

There was a loud shuffling of feet to help clean up the temple and he began walking, heading not out as some were but in, towards doors that led even deeper within the temple. He paused just outside of one and looked back, the hairs on the back of his neck rising in response to the sudden feeling of eyes watching him.

All he saw at first were his disciples, either leaving or sweeping the ashes and coals out of the extinguished pyres to carry them off later. Then as his gaze swept around he saw it, a hooded figure lounging against one walls near the exit that acolytes were leaving through, but they were all giving him a wide berth. Malgorthius could not see who it was, but he could tell right away that he was not a worshipper of Toth. His robe was far too dark for that. But from how he was standing and from the details of his robes that could be made out in the dim light—

Oh for the love of Dumat and his pompous ego if that’s who he thought it was then Malgorthius was going to _kill_ him.

Without a word he turned and stormed off into the temple, his hands shaking from a combination of anger and exhaustion. His legs could barely carry him, his muscles and bones so drained from the force of Toth that he wanted to collapse into the nearest bed and sleep for a day. He wasn’t as young as he used to be, that was true, but even when he had been a simple priest every one of Toth’s rare messages spoken to him would leave him like this. The only thing that changed was how quickly he recovered. But his room in the middle of the temple was a place of rest and solitude, an ancient place for all the high priests of the ages to recover from their interactions with Toth. 

The door was as old as the temple itself, carved in red oak and it swung shut behind him with a heavy click of finality and he was, blessedly, alone. For a moment he rested his head against the door and let himself breathe in deeply before straightening and making his way over to the long couch where he always sat, placing his staff on the low table in front of it. The fireplace was cold, but filled with fresh wood, and with a thought he made it burst into flames. Not bright enough. He frowned at the candles strewn across the dresser and they all flickered to life, chasing away the shadows of the room. There. 

It seemed like he had only just lain down when there was a knock on the door. No, _no!_ This was a place specifically where he would not be disturbed! “What?” he snapped as he sat up, feeling the skin of his hands itch from the heat coursing through them. 

There was a frightened squeak from the other side of the door. “The High Priest of Dumat is here, sir! He says he has a message for you!”

Of course he did. Of course Sethius Amladaris could not take a hint and followed him all the way here instead of understanding that he had been dismissed and told rather blatantly that Malgorthius was in no mood to deal with him right now. “The High Priest of Dumat can wait with his message,” he replied, laying back down. “Dumat is the silent God, after all.”

“You dare--!” he heard the sputter of a different voice that he knew all too well and then his door was being shoved open, with Sethius and the acolyte trying to restrain him both tumbling into his sanctuary. 

Malgorthius’s eye twitched and fire sprang to life among his fingers. “Get out of here this instant,” he hissed, holding one hand up to make a fireball in the middle of his palm. 

With another squeak the acolyte fled but of course, naturally, as if the world would ever work out any differently, Sethius stayed right where he was, his face a picture of disdain. As if somehow it was Malgorthius who was intruding upon _him_. “Malgorthius, I need to talk to you,” he said, drawing himself up and holding himself in that perfect picture of arrogance that Malgorthius so hated every time he talked to his fellow priest. 

“The only reason why I haven’t incinerated you right now is because you happen to be standing on a phenomenally expensive carpet,” Malgorthius replied, spinning the fireball in his hand faster. “But if you don’t get out then I suppose I can live with having to replace it.”

If anything, the look on Sethius’s face might have made this whole encounter worth it. The priest stared at Malgorthius for a handful of long, agonizing seconds while Malgorthius grinned and spread his fingers wide. Toth above he could _see_ Sethius fumbling for words and that was almost as precious as Toth’s message. “This is important,” Sethius said at last, breaking out of his shocked stupor like a bird ruffling his feathers. “Extremely important.”

“Unless Minrathous is on the verge of crumbling into the sea as we speak I’m sure it can wait a day,” Malgorthius retorted, holding his hand higher. “You know how hard fustian velvet is to come by, Sethius.”

There was a flash of red light as Sethius threw up a barrier around himself, illuminating his face twisted in rage. “I will not stand here and be ordered about and thrown out by the likes of you! Your arrogance—“

“ _My_ arrogance?!” Now he was pushing himself to his feet, a wave of dizziness making him sway and he cursed heartedly for it. “You are the one in _my_ temple you bastard. Dumat does not protect you here, this is Toth’s domain and I am His high priest and I will throw you out of here like a dog if you do not show the respect that He deserves!” His energy was starting to come back, fueled by his rage and the flames on the candles flickered as if caught in an invisible breeze. “How dare you spy on us and then dare set foot even here, where no one but Toth’s faithful are allowed to tread! I would strike you down myself if you came here an hour later.”

That was a mistake, he shouldn’t have hinted at how weak he was. Thankfully for him Sethius did not seem to be very concerned over the verbal sparring that they usually threw at each other. “Will you shut up and listen to me! I’m—“

The fireball collided with his head, or at least his barrier at head height. Malgorthius was really trying not to scorch the carpet and the flames that exploded from the impact rolled harmlessly off the walls and door. He heard Sethius screech something and stumbled back from the force of it and there, now he was no longer standing on the carpet and Malgorthius followed up with a burst of fire from his other hand, pushing Sethius out of the room entirely. Light had chased away all the shadows of the nightly temple and he could see Sethius through the wall of magic and fire raise his hands. Then his barrier exploded around him, warping and diverting Malgorthius’s fire away for the brief second. But it was a long enough window of time for him to cast a spell of his own. 

Exhaustion may have drained Malgorthius of most of his mana, but it had not made him slow nor stupid. His own barrier snapped around him long before Sethius ever completed his spell, and it was a good thing he did because the invisible force that assaulted him from every angle would have broken some of his bones at the very least. Did he really just try to trap him in a crushing prison? Anger pulsed in his veins and gave him strength. Light, not fire but pure light, blazed from his outstretched hand and he poured mana into it, creating a blinding flash that even he had to look away from. The prison around him wobbled and broke along with Sethius’s concentration and he stepped free of it, kneeling down to place his hand on the floor. 

There was a yell from Sethius as the stone under his feet suddenly became liquid and he was falling through, his hands frantically catching on the edge of the floor that was still solid before he could sink completely. “Zazikale take your stubborn soul Malgorthius, I just want to _talk!”_ he shouted, even as magic glowed around his fingers and spread from him like a mist, creating a swirling haze that covered nearly the entire hall. 

Malgorthius clenched his fingers, feeling a wave of dizziness and exhaustion sweep over him with a force that almost made him fall right there. Of course, energy draining, weakness, any sort of spell for crippling. Sethius always did like to play with his food first. Really for that alone he felt like putting the floor back and leaving Sethius stuck inside for the rest of the night. Although he would have to hear him screeching, then. “Toth is the one who will take my soul when the time comes, and no other. And why didn’t you do something sensible then, such as writing a letter, perhaps?” He felt the sneer on his face as he forced himself to stand up, Sethius and his aura be damned. 

Sethius sneered back and tried to climb out of the pool, but it was too narrow for him to use his legs to help and his arms were woefully inadequate for the job of hauling his entire weight out of the muck he was in. His expression flickered. “You wouldn’t have read it if it came from me,” he said, resting on the edge and holding himself there. “And like I said this is _important.”_ His eyes flashed as he enunciated, clicking his tongue on the syllables as if he could sink venomous fangs into Malgorthius and poison him with the same sort of determined frenzy that he was afflicted with. 

“And so you chose to come right in the middle of one of our ceremonies. Your tact, or rather lack of, is simply stunning.” His vision doubled and he rubbed his eyes hard. “Also I’m not Oratex, I look at my letters before I throw them into the fireplace.” He grasped behind him, feeling for the door and leaning against it when he found it. “Take the field down, now,” he growled out, the heat of his anger sputtered under the tiredness dragging at his limbs. He didn’t even think he had enough left to dispel it himself. 

“Get me out of here!” Sethius snapped, trying and failing once more to pull himself out of his prison. 

“And how am I supposed to do that when you have this aura constantly draining my energy? Do you ever think before opening your mouth?” His knees were shaking and he forced them to stay still, locking them back hard. “Or even better, why don’t you just tell me what is such a matter of earth-shattering importance that made you think any of this current plan of yours was a good idea?”

The high priest gave him a glare. Only Sethius could possibly act like he was looking down upon someone while his face was at the same level as the floor. “I will tell you in private, it is not for other ears to hear.”

“No one is around. You tell me now or I leave you here.”

“You saw it, didn’t you?” Sethius leaned forward, the murk around him making a wet noise as he moved. His face had changed, the anger fading into a seriousness that Malgorthius could barely recognize coming from him. 

That finally made him look up. “Saw what?” he asked, his voice dropping in turn. Despite his legendary temper he had always found it hard to stay angry at someone who was trying their hardest to not be irritating. 

“The Golden City. I know you did. I saw you when you came out the fire. The look on your face, I knew right away that Toth had shown you exactly what Dumat showed me.” Some of that smugness was back, Malgorthius could see it in the way Sethius lifted his head. “Now is that enough to get through your head or do I need pen and paper?”

Malgorthius narrowed his eyes and stamped his foot, delighting in the startled yelp from the other magister as the bit of stone Sethius was holding onto melted into the same goo as the rest of the pool. “Do not speak to me in that tone, ever. Especially when I’m the one who has you trapped.” He shouldn’t have done that, even that flare of magic had him leaning almost the rest of his weight on the door. He crossed his arms to hide his shivering, watching Sethius as he floundered. “So, is it just Dumat and Toth, or all of the Gods? Or is this just Dumat and He orders all of the Gods to do what He says?”

“Get me put of here!” Sethius spat. “Get me out and I will tell you!”

“Then _take down the field_ Sethius, for the love of Toth.” He actually expected more arguing, but the way the mist began to dissipate almost instantly was very nice as well. Without it constantly draining on him he could now think without fear of falling over, but the strength it sapped from him wouldn’t magically come back. Which is why he was so confused when he felt warmth spreading across his chilled body only a second later.

A look up revealed Sethius with his hand outstretched, blue light surrounding it and leaping away from his fingers in an arc to land right on Malgorthius. The mana transfer was imperfect, done hastily and both of them unprepared and it made Malgorthius’s teeth numb, but it was still enough. He pushed himself away from the door and marveled at how desperate Sethius must have been to willingly give some of his own mana away, and made his way over to the priest without swaying. “Here,” he reached out and Sethius grasped his arm, hard, and he pulled, digging his feet into the ground even as Sethius pulled with him.

It was only a few seconds before Sethius was able to get one of his knees up and push himself the rest of the way out of the ground with a loud sucking noise, leaving him covered from the chest down in stone-colored fluid that dripped from him to the floor. “You ruined my robes,” he hissed out, looking angrier than Malgorthius had ever seen him.

With a flick of his wrist the floor was back to normal. “Magic put it there, and magic can take it off,” he said and forced his feet to carry him to his room again. “Now you may come in and you will behave. I will lie down because I am tired and have already had to deal with you once, and you will talk about what you have to say. I will listen.” He paused at the door and turned to look at Sethius. The priest quirked an eyebrow at him. “Also, don’t raise your voice and none of that gesturing you usually do. I can understand you just fine.”

**Author's Note:**

> A lot of lore and Tevinter religious practices I had to make up, so most of this is headcanon, including the lines for the Verses of Fire. But I was inspired a lot by Iced Earth so I can’t really take credit for it. Malgorthius shares no connection to the Malgorthios who sacrificed women to the Old Gods, but knowing him I wouldn’t be surprised if he did. I just liked the name and the description of it


End file.
